These past weeks has been so hard, rough, exhausting, and frustrating. I took a hundred steps backward to calm myself, to hide for a moment. I thought I was safe, but it’s still there following me. The shivers, the sweat, the screams and the cries, NOT AGAIN.
I was done with this war. Or maybe I thought was done with it. I don’t have the strength to fight against the monsters. They’re here again. They’re digging up the graves that have been forgotten. Wounds opening up again. Scars that has long been beautiful in my eyes, feels like a stained paint I wanna washed. I am tired of this. I cry every day wishing my tears would drown them, but I didn’t know they know how to swim. I was hoping for a light, that maybe it’ll lead me way out. But there was only a lighthouse, but no light. I was okay. Or maybe I was just convincing myself all along that I was okay.
Last night, I had to convince myself why I should not cut through this wrist. Tonight, my brother knocked on my room to ask me if what am I doing inside or if I was okay. And I swear, I heard fear and guilt in his voice as if he would consider himself suspect if I ended it all tonight.
I cried again.
I don’t know what to do.
Or maybe I know, I just have to figure how to do it…
And if tomorrow’s sunrise wakes me up,
Please help me to live one more day. And then goodbye.